


on a bigger scale

by driifting



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Post-Endgame, give me ant-man 3 except it's just domestic hope & scott, i would die for them, these two are idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-07 01:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18862924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driifting/pseuds/driifting
Summary: Scott knows his girlfriend is a superhero in her own right, and wants to ask her something extremely important.It's not quite the proposal Hope is expecting.“I’m so, so sorry, Scott, I can’t go another second without saying anything, I-I just don’t want you to hate me—”“Uh, I’m beginning to think we’re not on the same page here—”“Yeah, youthink?!”





	on a bigger scale

**Author's Note:**

> announcement: they're both idiots. however, i, too, am an idiot, and fell in love with them so hard i decided to upload my first fic ever. let me know what y'all think! i can't wait to write more stuff for these two <3

Scott finds it kind of ridiculous, really, how everything seems to settle back into place so well. Sure, day-to-day life isn’t without its sad, jarring moments, but they’re getting by. Adjusting, slowly. 

Also miraculous: the fact that Hope van Dyne is asleep beside him, chest rising and falling to her slow, steady breathing. The sunlight drifts in, making patterns on her face. She wrinkles her nose at the disturbance and shifts her body to face Scott, draping an arm over his torso. He is, quite frankly, appalled at how he can physically feel his heart soaring at the tiny, adorable movement. “Man, do I have it bad for you, Hope,” he says softly after a few moments, planting a kiss on her forehead. 

“Oh, that’s unfortunate,” she replies, suddenly wide awake.

“Good morning to you too. Why’s that?” Scott feels a light tinge of embarrassment— God, he was _so_ cheesy. 

“Because when you’re in love with someone,” she drawls playfully, “you let your guard down.” 

Confusion spreads across Scott’s face for a second before Hope attacks his stomach area with an aggressive series of pokes then tries to get up. Unsurprisingly, he sees this as a declaration of war, retaliating by locking his arms around her waist as tightly as he could. Scott knows she could easily fight her way out of the hold, but she squirms and giggles anyway. He can only imagine how sickeningly in love they must look right now, messing around in bed like a couple of teenagers. “Scott,” she shriek-laughs, tapping his forearm twice in surrender. “Off. I need to take a shower.” 

He shakes his head. “Nope, you’re trapped,” he sighs, nuzzling the nape of her neck.

“Okay, fine, two minutes,” she relents, settling into his arms. “You know why this whole position feels so weird right now?” 

“Uh, is it because I’m big spoon for once?” 

Hope snickers. “Bingo.” 

 

 

 

After Hope’s shower (Scott believes in night showers, it’s something they’ll argue about for years), they reconvene in the kitchen to make breakfast. It’s Saturday, which means they have a break from the scarily healthy meal plan Hope has them on, which means… _waffles_. Scott thought _he_ had a sweet tooth, but his girlfriend, as it turns out, was on another level. One time he caught her sitting on the kitchen floor at 2am eating a Cinnabon and crying because of some ad for adult diapers.

He finds it kind of crazy. They eat mostly the same stuff at home and always work out together, but for Hope, maintaining her “Wasp-ness” seems so effortless. Plus, he knows she can still kick his ass at any given time. He’s not complaining. Those biceps, they…. do things to him. Scott is perpetually in awe at how naturally the superhero life came to this woman, and even more in awe at the fact that this superhero is currently on her tiptoes searching for some whipped cream. 

“Hey, Maggie said she was gonna send an invite for tonight?” he asks, loading up the waffle iron. Today’s the hundredth day after the reversal of the snap— or as Cass liked to say, the _unsnappening_ — and she and Paxton decided to host a dinner.

“Oh, yeah, she did,” Hope replies absently. “Goddamn. A hundred days, huh?” 

“Yup. Seems pretty surreal to me.” 

“Ooh, gotcha,” she mutters, finally spotting the can of Reddi Wip. “And yes, Scott, I saw the invite, because I actually open our group text, unlike _some_ people,” she says, looking at him pointedly. 

Scott laughs and leans on the table. “Mmm, yeah, The Cassie Committee. You can’t blame me. You’re much, _much_ better at dealing with this awkward 4-parent system than I am,” he counters sweetly. 

Maggie had excitedly made a group text with the four of them, and sure, it was awkward, but it felt good to be working together when it came to the fifteen-year-old in question. After all, the snap rendered Maggie all alone in this parenting thing for five long years. It was the least they could do to make up for it. 

Hope rolls her eyes at his pandering attempt. “So do I RSVP or not?”

He gives it a second of thought. Hope’s comment about him and his texts reminded him of a text he actually _did_ read a couple of days ago. A really long, important one, in fact. From Sam Wilson himself. A plan starts brewing in the back of his mind to talk about it with Hope as soon as possible. Besides, it doesn’t feel quite right to attend the party, given the fact that they literally helped defeat Thanos and his armies firsthand.

One look at Hope and he knows that she totally read his mind— for that last part, at least. 

She shifts uncomfortably. “It’s just— we were _there_ , y’know? In the middle of it all—”

“—and I don’t think either of us can or should talk about it, um, with other people,” he adds, nodding. “Plus, it’s been a long week at the lab, right? We were looking forward to bumming around.” 

“I mean, yeah,” she agrees. “I don’t think I could last a whole night of that weirdness. We can beg off. Maggie will get it.”

“And we’re over at their place pretty often,” Scott shrugs. “We’re not terrible. We socialize! We’re nice people.”

“Sure.”

Scott and Hope erupt into a fit of giggles at how strange they sound, outwardly rationalizing their actions when they both know all they want is to stay home. He makes his way over to her and envelops her in a hug. “Let’s make a day of it. It’s gonna be nice. We can watch a movie, I’ll make dinner…” Scott trails off when he feels Hope taking small steps to turn them around, not wanting to break the hug. “What are you doing, babe?” 

“I’m watching the waffle,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “You can’t be trusted around that iron.” 

 

 

 

Hope sits on the floor of her parents’ living room, sifting through a bunch of old drawings and photos from her childhood. “Hey, Jellybean,” the voicemail from her mom had said. “Come over when you can, we found a box of your old stuff. Nice things. From before I... you know.” Hope had heard a nervous little laugh after that. “Anyway. Your dad and I will see you.” 

So here she is, spending a nice Saturday afternoon going through memories from a way simpler time. Hank is in the room too, fiddling with what looks like a tiny integrated circuit. Janet stands in the doorway, silently sipping her chamomile tea. It’s a perfect scene, honestly.

Except for the fact that she had already snooped around in Hank’s house a few years before this (back when they were estranged-ish), found this box, and taken the things she liked from it. 2015 Hope van Dyne was angrier than ever at her father for the whole Cross thing, bringing back a lot of perfectly valid angst. So she had taken it upon herself to steal back the things that reminded her of that happier time.

Hope makes an “awww” sound and holds up a picture of Janet waiting for her at the bottom of a playground slide, hoping that her reaction is convincing enough. Her mom smiles sadly, coming over to sit next to her. “Oh, I remember that day. You had just turned four, I think,” she muses, snuggling into Hope’s side. 

Hope lays her head on Janet’s shoulder. “This is nice, Mom.” 

“Mmm.”

“But why do I sense that you two have another motive for getting me over here?”

Janet freezes, and Hank snorts from where he’s sitting. “Busted.” 

“Sorry, Jellybean, it’s just…” she sighs. “Honestly, it’s been a hundred days, for God’s sake. But your father and I are still, quite frankly, a mess.”

Hope furrows her brow. “Like, emotionally?”

“No, no,” Janet laughs sheepishly. “With, um, real-life stuff, honey. Credit cards and memberships and documents for the house, that kind of thing.” 

Her daughter nods in understanding, slowly realizing how hard it must be for them to piece their lives back together. After all, the snap happened before Janet had a chance to really, _truly_ settle in. 

“It’s just… we were all gone for so long, you know? But now that we’re back, we just feel kind of lost. Again.” Janet develops a sudden interest in staring down her mug.

Hope takes her mother’s hand and holds it reassuringly. “I get it, mom. No problem.”

She spends the next couple of hours hunched over her iPad establishing Henry Pym and Janet van Dyne as real people, homeowners, and San Francisco residents. Hank grumbles about being a senior citizen and the imminent arrival of death and how he doesn’t even have any grandchildren yet (a comment Janet kicks him under the table for). 

“I’m kidding. We have Cassie. But that kid is 5’9” now, it’s terrifying. I lose my mind whenever I see her.”

Hope tries to hide a smile at how he talks about Cassie. Ever since they came back, it’s been slow but smooth progress when it came to getting to know each other all over again. Everything about Cassie is bright— she’s affectionate and smart, she can make anyone laugh, and they can’t get enough of her optimism. She decides that her parents picked up the grandma/grandpa dynamic pretty well. 

After filling out what seems like a thousand forms, she decides to head back home. Janet thanks her profusely, wondering aloud about where they would be without their Jellybean. Hope turns to her father next to hug him goodbye, but he leans in and shoots her a conspiratorial look. “I’ll walk you out.”

As they go down the porch steps, Hope suddenly feels uneasy. “Is this about the pictures? Because—”

“Pictures? No, I just wanted to tell you that I’ve been tinkering with your suits, and I’ve come across some… pretty interesting stuff. Tony Stark was onto something with those quantum GPS devices, they’re genius.”

She presses her lips into a thin line, unsure of what to make of this. “Oh, Dad, that’s great, but I’m not entirely sure if there’s an urgent need for Scott and I right now—”

Hank chuckles heartily, ruffling her hair as if he’s forgotten that she is, in fact, thirty-nine and not seven. “The world will _always_ need superheroes, Hope.” 

 

 

 

The drive home feels shorter than usual. Her dad was in an uncharacteristically good mood, so by virtue of osmosis, Hope is pretty happy, too. His news about the suit mods and all the talk about the weird family they’re all a part of swirl around in her mind, all eventually entering a mental folder called _Discuss with Scott_. She’s excited to have a laid-back night in with her boyfriend, away from all the parties and the 100 Days commotion. They’re probably going to end up rewatching 13 Going on 30, despite all of their attempts to broaden their movie horizons. (“I know Argo is like a masterpiece or whatever, but honestly, so is anything with Jennifer Garner in it. This is fact.”)

She arrives home feeling more loosey-goosey than she should, tossing her keys in the catch-all and humming some song from the radio. “Scott?” She shrugs off her jacket, walking into the living room in search of him. “There should still be some ice cream left in the—”

Hope stops dead in her tracks, desperately trying to assess the scene in front of her. The room had been tidied up quite a bit, it looked way cozier than what she thought was even possible, and there were lit candles all around. Her gaze falls on the dining table, and her heart sinks when she sees how nicely it’s been set. 

“Scott? W-What is this?” _It’s some bullshit, that’s what it is_ , Hope thinks. 

He beams at her. “Oh, hi, babe. I said I was gonna take care of dinner. This is me taking care of dinner,” he says, gesturing at everything. 

 

 

 

Twenty minutes into “dinner”, Hope van Dyne internally declares that this is probably the worst night of her life. She’s been playing it cool and talking with him normally, even complimenting him on how good the food is (no need for lying here, Scott is an excellent cook and he made her _salmon_ and she loves him and he’s wonderful, but she kind of wants the ground to swallow her whole right now). Her heart rate is steadily rising and she knows she’s going to burst soon. It’s pure panic. 

_Oh, no. No no no. This doesn’t feel right_. Hope is one hundred percent sure she wants to marry this man, but his timing is horrible. They’ve just gotten back on their feet with everything, and Hope and Cassie have just reached a more comfortable place in their relationship. Plus, she feels totally fucking blindsided. They were Ant-Man and the Wasp, but mostly just Scott and Hope— they’ve been in sync about every major decision up until this one. Getting back together, her moving in, it all just felt so natural. Hope was sure she’d feel this coming, in her bones. She’d be so certain of it that when it happened, she’d go, _Ah, yes, this is right_. But this? This just feels pretty awful. 

She snaps out of her tornado of worry when she feels Scott lay his hand on hers, making her flinch. 

“So, this is what I’ve been meaning to do. I don’t need an answer right now, I just want you to hear what I have to ask you,” he smiles at her assuredly.

“I’m sorry,” Hope blurts out, pulling her hand away. “I’m so, so sorry, Scott, I can’t go another second without saying anything, I-I just don’t want you to _hate_ me—”

“Uh, I’m beginning to think we’re not on the same page here—”

“Yeah, you _think?!_ ” Hope’s voice is teetering on the edge of hysterical. 

Scott catches a glimpse of her fists— they’re balled up so tightly, her knuckles have turned white. That’s when he realizes how grave the unfolding misunderstanding is. 

“Oh, _Hope_ , would you just let me ask my question?” 

She inhales sharply, jumping to her feet, and he follows suit. “Jesus, Scott—” 

“Will you come and be an Avenger with me?”

“Wait, _what_?” 

“Sam got in touch with me again this week, and he said he hasn’t been able to shake this feeling that we can come together again, we _should_ come together, I know we haven’t seen the others since Tony’s funeral, but watching you get to properly meet everyone made me _so_ happy, Hope. You’re a hero just as much as anyone who was there, you _belong!_ I think this is a step in the right direction for us, I mean, it’s only a matter of time before the need comes and we’re back in those suits, and—”

“Yes! Scott. Yes. I-I’m in.” Hope can barely get the words out, she’s still flabbergasted as all hell.

“Thank god,” he replies, cupping her face in his hands.

“Wh-why did you think you even needed to ask?” Hope is visibly shaking. “You didn’t have to prepare all this, I would literally follow you to the ends of the earth, you _know_ that—” 

“But, babe,” Scott cuts in, taking her hands and laying them on his chest. “I don’t want you to _follow_ me,— if you’re saying yes, I want it to be because we’ll be in this together, a hundred percent.”

Hope nods slowly. “We will be. We are.” 

“You’re my partner. In everything.” He looks at her intently. “I love you, Hope.” 

Her eyes start welling up with tears and Scott can see some of the tension leaving her body. “Yeah, no shit. I love you too.”

He breathes a big sigh of relief. “Okay, so that’s settled,” he concludes, leading them over to the couch to sit down. Hope relaxes a little, but still refuses to meet his eyes. 

“Oh, _shit_ , you really thought I was going to ask you to marry me.”

She hides her face in her hands. “Don’t be such a dick, Scott, tell me you didn’t sense the vibe this whole setup gave off,” she hisses loudly. 

He laughs for a second too long, but by the time he realizes it, it’s too late.

Hope lifts her head. “Oh, I see, so you _don’t_ wanna get married.” Her voice is dripping in contempt, but he feels a pang in his heart at how vulnerable and small she still sounds. 

Scott can practically hear Cassie giving her usual humorous commentary, as in: _“And it was at this moment, Scott Lang knew… he fucked up.”_

“Hope, hey,” he pleads, frantic and exasperated. “What gives, man? Of course I want to marry you. Look at me. Hope.” 

Once she begrudgingly turns toward him, he continues. “You know that, right? Like sure, we never sat down and talked about it, but... are we just terrible at communicating? Do _you_ not want this?”

She smacks his arm, hard. “Fuck yeah, I do, dumbass, I wanna get married. Someday. _Obviously_.”

Scott grins at how much of a potty mouth Hope has whenever she’s stressed out. “Okay, right on. I was just checking.”

She settles down onto the couch, _finally_ , allowing him to hold her as she tries to get her breathing back to normal. Scott—seemingly automatically—starts massaging the space between her neck and her shoulder, something they’ve evolved to do when she needs help calming down. It barely registers in either of their minds. They’re a unit now. Caught up in a chain of perfect symbiosis. Partners in every single way, like Scott said. After a few minutes, Hope pipes up. 

“So, what you’re saying is, we go and see if this team works out, fight off the forces of evil that still, uh, plague this planet, do our best to survive them, and _then_ figure this stuff out? 

He makes a high-pitched, reluctant noise in return. “Actually, I mean, can we consider making the timetable... a bit more flexible, babe? Because, you know, we…”

She looks up at him and raises an eyebrow. He thinks it’s the most intimidatingly sexy thing in the whole world; he decides that if he died right here and now, it’d be fine. “Go on, Scott.”

“We might wanna get around to that whole knot-tying shebang sooner rather than later, provided that life is a lot shorter than any of us really expected, and we already technically spent five years apart even though neither of us _really_ felt the full gravity of that, and I honestly don’t see a point in waiting around much longer--”

“Okay. I get that.”

“Yeah?” Scott lights up at the possibility of this _actually_ happening soon. 

“Sure. Makes sense.” It’s back to scary-CEO-Hope mode. No tells, no facial expressions whatsoever. 

“Cool.” Scott tries not to betray any emotion either.

“Who knows? Maybe _I_ might propose.”

“Tight.” He’s barely holding it in. 

“I could beat you to it.”

“Yes, you could.”

“I’d definitely do a better job,” she teases, knowing that it’ll make him crack. 

“Oh, we’ll see about that. I think you’re letting today’s setup fool you, Miss van Dyne, because that question— aww, baby, that _question_!” Scott lets out a diabolical cackle of sorts. He is increasingly aware of how batshit he sounds. “It’s infinitely more important than this one, and of massive, universe-altering proportions, et cetera, even though, hmm, nothing will _really_ change since, I mean, you’ve already moved in with me, and at this point, you, me, Cass, Hank, and Janet are family again, an _Ant-Fam_ , if I may, and I don’t think we’ve ever discussed our thoughts on the institution of marriage itself, because boy, do I have some opinions, but _boy_ would it be nice to call you my wife and--”

“Scott.”

“Yes.” 

Silence hangs between them. It feels pretty goddamn electric. They have a mini-staredown, daring the other to say something.

“Oh, you want me to shut up? Fucking _make me_ ,” he says, in an annoying, faux-seductive growl. 

Hope jabs at his chest. “Disgusting. I hate you.” Another hit. “What’s that word again, from before? You are _cancelled_.”

He laughs again, and it doesn’t fill Hope with an invasive-anxious-irrational sludge this time. It makes her feel safer than she’s ever felt. Happier, too. She’s serious about maybe being the one to propose someday. Or maybe they can have a proposal-off, she thinks. That would be pretty on brand for them. They can practically read each other’s minds at this point, and that should make for an interesting competition.

“Hey, lady I’m definitely proposing to first, here’s a fantastic idea, wanna watch 13 Going on 30?” 

Hope feels an indescribable warmth in her chest. Yup, this is it. She wants to spend the rest of her life with this idiot-genius-engineer-dad-superhero, more than anything in the world. “Sounds perfect.”


End file.
